


Toll the Dead and Make the Deal

by kittenkanaya



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: D&D Backstory, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Gen, Rowan's dumbassery and problematicness just got thrown back at them, Sacrifice, The Valentine Twins are dumb, update, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-02-27 10:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenkanaya/pseuds/kittenkanaya
Summary: Rowan and Nera Valentine can't live without the other. Taboos are nothing if it means they can keep the other alive. When you and your twin are the only ones left that care about the other, what else can you do but deal with the devil to bring them back?





	1. Deals Made in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skittlepants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittlepants/gifts).



> Hello! This is my first original work that I'm posting here, and it's a commission I wrote for a friend who plays the twin of my D&D character. This is just a part of our backstory, but I loved writing it! I hope you enjoy it too.

A young Shadar-Kai elf stood in a shaded and silent forest, in front of an altar. The gray-skinned elf was alone, blending into the shadows by design. The altar before them was a plain stone slab, shrouded by a black cloth and topped with various stones, bowls, and a knife. Even to an untrained eye, it would have been apparent that a ritual was in progress. 

The elf murmured the words of a long forgotten language under their breath, reaching into their cloak to pull out a thin, tattered book. A flip later, and they were on a page with odd runes that only they knew how to read. They lifted their fingers and began to trace the runes slowly, carefully. Through this, the mumbled words kept on in a ceaseless stream. The elf knew that even one missed rune or oddly accented word would make all of their preparations wasted. This night was nearly 50 years in the making, and if all went well, those 50 years of studying and practicing would have been well spent.

Nearly an hour of nonstop, feverish chanting passed, only highlighted by the occasional flip of a page. The Shadar-Kai eventually came to the end of a chapter in the book, finishing reading the last lines before setting it down on a vacant spot of the altar. They began to repeat the final line, picking up the jagged knife next to the book, then raised it to the moonless sky with their fingertips. With a bloodcurdling scream, they take hold of the knife’s hilt, bringing it down and slicing into their gut.

Blood and stomach acid spew out and drip onto the open pages of the book, soaking the pages. Agony contorts the young elf’s face and their pitch black eyes glaze over. They heave in a last breath and give out a final cry.

_ “Castys, current Goddess of Death and Guardian of the afterlife! Come to me! Accept my offering! Take my life and give me the strength I lack!” _

__ Voice dying out, the Shadar-Kai slumps over and lands onto the altar. The force of their body knocks several of the stones and bowls off of the stone slab, and their breathing begins to stop. Cold – not unfamiliar to them – creeps through their limbs and up towards their torso. The last sensation of warmth that they feel as their vision begins to black out is the blood and their own organs spilling out and soaking into their robes. Before their vision is too blurry and dark and their consciousness is hanging on by a thread, they see the fog of the woods turn a pure black and converge upon their being. The elf is too numb to feel it, but the gentle way it curls around their hand and caresses their face feels oddly comforting. 

The victory of the sacrificial ritualistic death leaves a wicked grin on their corpse’s twisted face.

* * *

 

Outside of the forest, an identical Shadar-Kai elf was playing a calm tune on her viol. She plays it to the tempo of the waves that she can faintly hear outside of the cabin she resided in. When her fingertips become sore, she puts her instrument away and stretches. She notices that her sibling is still not back, even after being gone most of the day. It’s very much nighttime outside, which she knows can be dangerous – even in this peaceful corner of the province. She decides to light a fire in the fireplace and go out to look for her twin, so that they can follow the smoke from the chimney as a guide coming back.

Fire lit, she pulls on a cloak and sets out into the forest, since she knew her sibling would often go into it to look for trading materials and cooking ingredients. She looks for the better part of an hour before stopping to sit down on a tree stump to catch her breath. Looking around, she realizes that something is off. The mist that usually hugged the ground at this time of night was a greyish hue and much farther off of the ground than normal. It clung to her waist like a cloying child. Odd. Dismissing it as a trick of the shadowy light and the fact that she has seen far stranger, she decides to head towards the clouds of mist that looked even darker.

The woman travels for what seems like an hour, taking note of the increasingly darkening mist and how the sounds of the woods around her are fading out. She can no longer hear the soft waves or any croaks or chirps from the usual nightlife. She feels…anxious. The anxiety isn’t assuaged and only spikes upon sighting a dark mass of the fog. It seems to be contained to a circle etched into the ground and the mist itself rises much higher off the ground than the surrounding area. It appears to cling to a body-shaped form. Wary of rituals and their consequences, she approaches cautiously. As she crosses over the circle inlaid into the ground, the black mist dissipates immediately, leaving a gruesome sight behind for the woman to see.

The first thing she registers is that she is, in fact, standing in a ritual circle. Her eyes take in information – the body that the mist had been hiding is hooded and cloaked, the body slumps over a crude stone altar, candles and bowls and stones are scattered around the altar, having clearly been knocked off. She walks a bit closer to the body. She cannot yet see the face, but she can clearly see that the body is bloody and is of a Shadar-kai. More importantly, the body’s hand that is thrown over the altar has rings on each finger. Her  _ sibling’s _ rings. Bile rises in her throat and she bolts forward.

She places her hand on the body’s shoulder and pulls it back to reveal its face. She feels like screaming and crying and vomiting at the agony that laces her blood in an instant, but nothing comes out. She is a bard and her voice is stolen away at the recognition that her sibling, her beloved identical twin, has a ceremonial knife embedded into their gut and that they are unnaturally cold. The last person alive that she loved and cared about was dead by their own hand. She knew not the reason why, but existential pondering would come later.

In that moment, all that encompasses her mind is the need to get her twin out of the woods and into a more comfortable place. Being thrown over a cold stone altar couldn’t be very comfortable, could it? Now that she thinks about it, her twin is awfully cold, so she should get them next to the fire back at home so they can warm up. They’re probably hungry too, since she doesn’t remember them taking anything to eat when they left that morning. She wraps her arms around them, dragging them along. Goodness, they must be fast asleep if they can’t walk on their own. She’ll get them cleaned up and put to bed as soon as they’re both back.

She doesn’t even realize her switch in the way she thinks, but this train of thought continues through the night and into the morning for two days. Until, one morning she wakes up to find her twin still unmoving and cold as clay. Only then, after  _ finally _ screaming and crying and throwing things around the cottage is she able to come to terms with the fact that her beloved other half is deceased and gone, and she is all alone in this world. 

As she knows her sibling has committed at taboo, she resolves to commit one herself. She will raise the dead.

* * *

 

Rowan opens their eyes to a twilight forest. A young woman stands a few feet away, smiling distantly when she notices the Shadar-kai.

“You summoned me with taboo magic, child. My wife is not very happy about you taking yourself out of her domain before your time.”

Rowan’s eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “Castys?” they ask quietly.

She nods. “Yes, child. I must ask, now that you have summoned us both to a place where we can speak: what power did you want from me? What strength could you gain from the goddess of death?”

Rowan sits down. “My family was chased out of the Shadowfell and a few decades back, my parents were slaughtered in cold blood in front of my sister and I’s eyes. We were only children and the Shadar-kai and the Raven Queen ripped that away from us. I want help to get revenge, and the only force powerful enough to express my pain is death itself – your power.”

Castys considers this carefully. She steps forward after nearly an entire minute has passed, taking ahold of Rowan’s hand gently. Her small face is pained, but she smiles gently – like a mother would.

“Young one, I will lend you my power. However, the cost to you shall be great, and I first wish for you to stay here awhile with me and tell me more about yourself and your past. Afterall, I’m not going to give my destructive powers to a stranger. I would only trust them with a friend. You stay with me and pay the price I ask for, and I shall appoint you as the one and only Oracle of Castys and send you back to the living realm. What say you to this?”

Rowan’s black eyes gleam as a broad grin spreads across their face. They grasp Castys’s hand in a business shake.

“For my sister’s protection and to give divine retribution to a bitch? I’ll pay any price. Let’s have a chat, shall we?”

* * *

 

The Bard had spent well over a  _ year _ looking for a way to resurrect her twin. She had spent every waking moment of every day reading tomes in various languages about bringing back the dead and people that had dabbled in such forbidden arts and therefore might know how to bring her twin back. Nothing had succeeded. Everything she read either led to a dead end or to a goddess of death. This was a problem because there were two goddesses – Castys, the current goddess of death, and the Raven Queen, the former. No one had ever  _ seen _ Castys and the only way to see her was to join her domain forever by dying. And the Raven Queen? She banished the twins and their parents for an unknown reason and later sent her Champion, Redav, to off them all. 

The Shadar-kai shudders at the memory. Her and Rowan huddled together in a small storage space beneath the floorboard, able to do nothing but hear the firing of spells and the screams of their parents. Turning to the Raven Queen was not an option. 

And yet…it was. Somehow. The Bard was desperate and willing to do anything to get her twin back. Even if it meant turning to the very person who had driven them to this situation and who almost certainly would not show mercy. 

So, on one freezing, rainy morning, she set out for the Shadowfell. It had been a long time since she had been there, but she knew how to get back. The travel was quick and sooner than she would have liked, she finds herself in front of the Raven Queen’s shadowy castle. Everything was shaded in tones of grey, with the exception beautiful, colorful flowers that filled the gardens around the province. She did not take this in, however. The only thing on her mind was opening the door and conducting business. 

Upon opening the door, she is stopped by a Shadar-kai guard dressed in black leather.

“What business do you have here?”

She glares. “I must speak to Nera, the Raven Queen. I have a request that only she can fulfill. If you intend to stop me, I will slaughter you. I am not a violent person, but I have something important to attend to. Lead me to her hearing room.”

The guard looks offended, but merely nods in response and gestures for her to follow. The guard leads her down several hallways and through a few rooms, finally stopping at a pair of ornate double doors. The guard opens it and announces her arrival. She steps onto the threshold.

The Raven Queen quirks an eyebrow in surprise and sits up a bit straighter.

“Oh hoh? Little lost lamb come wandering back? I was sure you had died, banished one. What brings you crawling back here?”

The Shadar-kai grits her teeth. “My twin is dead. Suicide. I don’t know why. Bring them back… _ your highness _ .”

The queen scowls. “Now  _ why in the world _ would I do that for someone whose family I banished decades ago? What do you have that would be equal to the worth of me going against nature and fully bringing back what has already died?”

The Bard tilts her chin up in defiance, trembling with anger and fear. 

“Whatever you want.  _ Whatever  _ you desire. I’ll give you my life or anything else I can just as long as you give me Rowan back.”

Nera cackles. “You dying would be worthless and counterintuitive. We are of the fae. Give me your name and a life favor that I can call in at any time I want. That favor could be anything and called in anytime. As for the name, upon reviving your bastard twin, their memory of your name will be erased. There will be no one in any dimension other than you and I who will remember it.”

The Shadar-kai shudders violently.  _ Her name?  _ That was her  _ identity _ . And a life debt? Fear broke her voice as she weakly voiced out a question, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Wha-t…what name would I have then? I can’t be nameless.”

The temperature of the room plummets as the Raven Queen sneers. 

“Nera. The cursed name given to me millennia ago. By carrying my name, you will never forget this deal and your debt.”

She feels like throwing up. Her knees give out and she sobs aloud.

“Deal. I give you my name and accept yours.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Nera Valentine.”


	2. The Fuckening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out that being a genocidal manic brings back Really Bad Karma (TM)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A surprise update! Sometime in the future, I'll probably add in a chapter that shows the twins being domestic and not Hurting (TM) and Rowan getting used to being deaf.  
> Important notes:  
> \- Rowan is deaf and an Oracle  
> \- Nera is a Bard  
> \- Coors is a water genasi fighter(?)  
> \- Shea is a human rogue  
> \- Shear is a araacokra monk  
> \- Thatcher is a tabaxi whose class I can't remember for the life of me  
> \- roughly 60 or 70 years have passed since chapter one. Our party has gotten dragged into family disputes, almost died, nicknamed ourselves the Platinum Dicks, been taught time traveling powers by an immortal, been chased by Shadar-kai, been chased by thieves, had our favorite town burned down, and some other D&D shit happen. This is from the most recent session and I just had to write it because I'm Upset, Queer, and Emotional. Enjoy.

They should not have come to this place. They should have known that something would happen and that _something_ would be out for blood. After many quests, training sessions, learning new powers from an ancient, immortal being and traversing a total of 20 years through time, Redav was still very obviously above the party’s pay grade. And of course, he had to ambush them as they all were on their way to prevent unnecessary bloodshed in another kingdom.

            None of them had seen him coming from the shadows until it was too late. Shea had drawn his sword only to be disarmed and thrown back. Rowan only had time to see Shea go flying before they were yanked many feet forward towards Redav, Nera following seconds after Rowan. The rest of their companions had attempted to go after the twins, only to be pushed further back.

            Nera and Rowan grab the first weapon they can get their hands onto, trusting whatever deity they had sworn their lives to previously to guide them in this battle they both knew instinctually they could not win. Tearing their eyes away from their companions to look at their executor, dread fills the twins to the core as Redav laughs and erects a cube around them. It didn’t take a genius to recognize that it was an _incredibly_ powerful magic barrier. Coors and Shea attempt to break through, only to have their weapons shatter upon touching the barrier. They and the others could only look on in despair as the large Shadar-kai draws his sword in preparation to snuff out the lives of their friends.

            Within the barrier, the twins know they were alone with the right hand of a god. The thought chills them. The man that stands before them had murdered their parents and pursued them for decades. They look toward each other and nod, for they were prepared to die protecting the other as they had always done. Hastily, they each draw upon their magic, ready their weapons, and strike out at Redav.

Nera, after slicing into Redav with her longsword, growls out a “Don’t _fucking_ touch them.”

Although the two manage to land a hit or two on him, he is unfazed and raises his sword. The metal glints dimly in the poor lighting; the sharpened edges slightly worn and scratched from the countless enemies skewered by it. He steps forward and swings, the movement a blur.

            Rowan can’t even scream before Nera is slammed against the wall of the barrier, making nauseating crunching sounds and slumping to the ground. Her beautiful dragon scale dress is shredded and her precious, dark blood pours out of her as if it were afraid to remain within her skin for a second longer. No sooner had this happened, did three strikes pummel Rowan and send them next to their sister. Rowan’s body is numb and feels disjointed from their mind. Most likely, their brain couldn’t even process how much pain they should be in. If it tried, they would become even more insane than they already were. They manage to move their eyes to look through the translucent barrier and see the panicked faces of Shea, Coors, Thatcher, and Shear. Letting their vision float to the side, they stare directly into the slack, bloody face of their twin. The only person in the realm of the living that kept them from forever joining Castys in the land of the dead. The only person they lived for and the only person whose visage was a constant reminder of their parents and the revenge Rowan needed to enact upon guilty parties. If Nera was dead, then Rowan had no motivation to stay any longer among the rest of those that live and smile in hopes of a new day.

            Rowan’s vision is blocked out suddenly by a black boot. Twisting their head and straining their eyes through their fading, bloody vision, Rowan sees Redav looming over their body. Their _broken_ body that cannot fight back nor protect itself. The sword’s midnight point is set against their throat. Redav’s face splits into a grin that warps his otherwise handsome face. His raven black hair slips over his shoulder, framing the last face Rowan will ever see in a halo of black.

            “Do you have any final words before I send you to meet your Queen?” Redav snarls.

            Rowan furrows their brow in hatred and sneers. Their Queen? What a joke. The Raven Queen was hardly a Queen, much less _their_ Queen. If they could have, they would have laughed. Instead, they settle for putting as much venom into their words as possible.

            “She is _not_ my Queen. _You_ are _not_ my god. Fuck. You.”

            Redav only raises an eyebrow in disdained surpise before mellowing out again into his usual scowl. “Very well then.”

            Time slows for a fraction of a second. Rowan feels the sword slightly pierce their skin, but the pain is dulled by the sudden warmth running over their throat. In the back of their mind, they suppose that it’s their own blood wetting their skin, but they can’t seem to find it within themself to care. The pitch black blade is lifted high, Redav’s goal a second away from being accomplished.

            Perhaps it is due to their fading consciousness and their soul already beginning to slip to the Other Side, but Rowan catches a glimpse of Castys standing behind Redav. Her expression is a heady mix of disappointment, determination, and desperation. Rowan blacks out as Redav’s sword begins its descent towards their head.

            What Rowan hadn’t realized was that Castys was _actually_ there. She had appeared through a split in the air, a beacon of beauty to all there that witnessed it. A dragonborn woman with golden scales and white dress, Castys was the image of a fierce yet gentle goddess. She lunges forward as Redav swings his sword down, stopping it dead in its tracks with her own sword. The blades remain crossed only for a heartbeat, however, before she swipes Redav’s weapon away and out of his hands.

            “ _Castysss_ ,” he snarls. “What are you here for? Rowan is _mine_.”

            The meaning of his hissed words are not known to the spectators, but Castys merely raises her chin in defiance.

            “No, they are not. You will not harm them.”

            Redav only responds by throwing a few daggers towards Castys. They do not make their target, for Castys waves her hand and they all rocket back towards Redav. Each dagger sinks deep into him, suddenly burning bright and hot. The metal melts and drips down his skin, burning him. Redav screams.

            Castys quickly grabs up Rowan and Nera and throws them towards the barrier with such force that they crash through it, despite the magic properties. Swinging her head back towards the threat at hand, she throws three more daggers towards Redav. The weapons strike true and impale and melt and _sear_ just like their predecessors.

            In a cacophony of noise and screeching, a hoard of ravens appear and circle the injured Shadar-kai warrior. A dark pool of water appears underneath him and he sinks into it, disappearing as an earsplitting howl rips through the air. The voice belongs to _her_ – to the Raven Queen.

“ ** _NOOOOOOOOO!”_**

            The guttural, primal noise dissipates as the raven hoard disappear with Redav and the pool of water. The silence that follows is deafening. Castys breaks it by turning around and walking to where Rowan is laying. Their eyes open weakly and they blearily look up to gaze at their goddess. A weak, pained smile crosses their face.

            “Castys…” they whisper softly.

            Castys’s returning gaze is full of sorrow and disapproval. And, if one were to look closely, a hint of slight disgust was there too. She sighs heavily.

            “Death is necessary, but it is not necessary for countless Shadar-kai to suffer at your hands. I have seen into your mind, your soul, and your heart, Rowan. I revoke my blessing of divinity. Seek me where I split the world when you are _ready_ to take on my blessing.”

            Rowan’s smile dissolves in an instant, replaced by horror. A strangled noise leaves their throat, but they cannot get any words out before Castys turns and disappears into the air. At her final words and leaving, Rowan feels _something_ leave them. That _something_ creates a hole within their soul that they never knew had even been filled in the first place.

            A searing pain scrapes down their face and throat from within their flesh. The agonizing pain carves along in precise, determined shapes and Rowan knows what is happening within seconds. Their runic tattoos – the physical mark of Castys’s blessing – is disappearing from their body. The brand that proudly showed that they had been recognized and blessed by a goddess none had seen and lived to tell the tale had been physically revoked. The goddess Rowan had befriended and devoted their life to for the better part of a century had abandoned them like a mother kicking her unwanted child out into the snow, naked.

           Destitute, alone, abandoned. Rowan had been hollow since their parents died, but something had happened sometime during the past 60-some-odd years that they had not been aware of. The gaining of a pact and blessing, the oath of familial vengeance and protection of their sister, and the gaining of … companions – of…friends – had filled part of that void. But now? Now, all of that had disappeared. Their only true tether to life? Probably dead. Their divine blessing? Revoked in its entirety. Companions? Not likely to stay around to attend to a probable corpse and an oracle rejected by their own god.

           An empty, aching sadness fills Rowan’s soul as their consciousness begins to leave them once more. They knew not if this was the last time their eyes would close, for there was no longer a reason to open them as far as Rowan was concerned. The last sensation their brain registered is the warm trickling of tears streaking down their cold cheeks and their own blood wetting their chapped, numbing lips. A shaking sob escapes them and blackness overtakes their mind.


End file.
